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Supreme Legacy, War Of the Gods

Eghosa_Idugboe
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
Born from the forbidden union of a human and a god, Shen Tian was a being of unparalleled power, both feared and loathed by the celestial races. In his prime, he challenged the gods and demons alike, nearly annihilating both in a bid to end their tyranny. But when he saw the suffering he caused, he sealed his power and exiled himself to the mortal realm, choosing a life of quiet solitude among humanity. For millions of years, Shen Tian lived as a mere mortal, tending to crops and healing the sick, watching generations of humans rise and fall. The celestial conflicts faded into distant myths, and the mortal realm flourished in peace. But that peace is shattered when Shen Tian learns that the gods and demons, long united by their hatred of mortals, have declared a great war. Their goal: to annihilate the mortal realm, erasing all traces of human existence. With his identity concealed, Shen Tian must once again rise to protect the world he has come to love. Yet, to do so means breaking his sacred vow never to unleash his divine power again. As ancient enemies close in and the mortal realm teeters on the brink of destruction, Shen Tian must walk the razor's edge between his human heart and his godlike wrath. NOTE: This is my first time so I will appreciate your support and please I'm open to all ideas and thoughts and how you would love to story to go on the long run
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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1: The Fallen Heaven

The sky was a battlefield of unparalleled carnage. Divine lightning clashed with hellfire, rending the heavens apart. The Realm of the Gods, once a serene and majestic place, now bore the scars of chaos. The celestial spires, home to the gods, stood shattered, their once-pristine structures crumbling under the weight of destruction. The demonic hordes, a tide of unholy power, surged forward like a relentless flood, their crimson eyes glowing with malice.

At the heart of this apocalyptic war stood Mo Xiu, a lone figure amidst the devastation. Neither god nor demon, he radiated a presence that dwarfed even the mightiest deities. His long silver hair shimmered with an ethereal light, his golden eyes cold and unyielding. The sword in his hand, Celestial Abyss, was an artifact that defied comprehension, its dark blade pulsating with forbidden power.

The gods and demons had joined forces once before to subdue him, but they had underestimated his resolve. For years, Mo Xiu had fought them, pushing both factions to the brink of annihilation. And now, he stood at the precipice of victory.

A voice filled with both rage and desperation echoed through the battlefield.

"Mo Xiu! This ends now!"

The speaker was Zhao Tian, the God of War. Towering and clad in golden armor, his presence was as imposing as the thunderclouds gathering above him. Beside him stood Xian Yue, the Goddess of Light, her radiant form flickering with cracks of divine energy. Surrounding them were the surviving gods and demons, united by fear rather than trust.

Mo Xiu's gaze swept over them. "You band together now, after centuries of slaughtering each other. Pathetic. You're nothing more than scavengers clinging to your hollow thrones."

"Silence!" Zhao Tian bellowed, his spear glowing with divine lightning. "You've caused enough destruction. You've slaughtered gods and demons alike. What are you trying to prove?"

Mo Xiu's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "What am I trying to prove? That your time is over. For millennia, you've played with the mortal realm like it's your personal chessboard, treating humans as pawns. You gods and demons are no different—you're parasites."

Xian Yue stepped forward, her voice trembling with emotion. "Mo Xiu, enough! You were one of us once. You stood among the gods. Why turn against us?"

Mo Xiu's eyes darkened. "I was never one of you. I was a mistake—a half-blood you cast aside. You judged me for my mortal lineage, mocked my existence. Now you want to question why I fight?" His voice grew colder. "The mortals you trample on daily are more deserving of power than any of you."

Zhao Tian roared in fury, raising his spear. "You've gone mad, Mo Xiu! If you will not stop, then we will stop you!"

The gods and demons charged, their combined power forming a tidal wave of divine and demonic energy. But Mo Xiu was unshaken. He raised Celestial Abyss, and with a single slash, the heavens themselves seemed to split. A shockwave of immense power rippled outward, sending gods and demons alike sprawling.

The Forbidden Choice

As the battle raged on, Mo Xiu felt a strange stillness settle within him. He had fought for centuries, his body and soul enduring countless battles. But this war, this endless cycle of destruction, had taken its toll.

In the distance, he saw the image of a woman—his mother, a mortal whose kindness had shaped him in his early years. Her face was gentle, her voice soft as she whispered to him in his memories.

"Mo Xiu, my son... don't lose yourself to hatred. The power you hold must not consume you."

Her words echoed in his mind, and for the first time in centuries, Mo Xiu hesitated. He lowered his sword, gazing at the ruined battlefield. The gods and demons, though battered and broken, still glared at him with defiance.

"I will not become the monster you've painted me to be," Mo Xiu murmured.

With that, he made his decision. Drawing upon the forbidden knowledge he had learned in his youth, he activated the ancient technique—Rebirth of the Fallen Soul. A circle of light enveloped him, its intricate runes glowing with a power that defied comprehension.

"What is he doing?" Zhao Tian demanded, his voice filled with alarm.

"He's sealing himself!" Xian Yue cried.

As the circle expanded, Mo Xiu's body began to dissolve into countless motes of light. His immense power, which had shaken the heavens, was sealed away, scattered into the void.

Before he vanished completely, Mo Xiu's voice rang out, calm and resolute.

"Enjoy your fragile peace, gods and demons. When I return, it will not be to destroy you—but to protect the mortals you would dare to harm."

With those final words, Mo Xiu disappeared, leaving the heavens in silence.

Fifteen Million Years Later: The Mortal Realm

The city of Qinghe was a bustling hub of activity. Merchants called out their wares, children played in the streets, and cultivators from various sects wandered the markets. Amid this lively scene, a modest courtyard stood in stark contrast—a shadow of the once-mighty Mo Clan, now a forgotten remnant of its former glory.

In the courtyard, a young boy sat cross-legged beneath a weathered tree. His face, though youthful, carried a calmness that belied his age. This was Mo Xiu, reborn and stripped of his power. His once-divine presence was now hidden beneath the guise of a mortal, his strength sealed by the very technique that had saved him.

For fifteen years, he had lived as the "shame" of the Mo Clan. Unable to cultivate, he was ridiculed by his peers and dismissed by the elders. Yet Mo Xiu bore their scorn in silence, his golden eyes occasionally flickering with a hidden brilliance.

"Still pretending to cultivate, Mo Xiu?"

The mocking voice broke his meditation. Mo Xiu opened his eyes to see Mo Ling, his elder cousin, smirking at him.

"You're a disgrace to the Mo name," Mo Ling sneered. "The elders are already planning to expel you from the family. A waste like you has no place here."

Mo Xiu rose slowly, dusting off his robes. His expression remained calm, unbothered by Mo Ling's taunts. "Say what you want, Mo Ling. We'll see who's truly a waste when the time comes."

Mo Ling laughed derisively. "Keep dreaming, cousin. When the sect recruitment begins, you'll be exposed as the failure you are."

As Mo Ling walked away, Mo Xiu turned his gaze to the distant mountains. Though he had lived quietly for years, he could feel the stirring of ancient forces. The gods and demons were moving once more, their ambitions threatening the fragile peace of the mortal realm.

"They think I'm dead," Mo Xiu murmured to himself. "Good. Let them think that. I'll protect this realm from the shadows—and when the time comes, they'll see the power they once feared."

As the sun set over Qinghe, Mo Xiu's resolve hardened. The road ahead would be long, but he was prepared. For now, he would live as a mortal, enduring ridicule and obscurity.

But when the time came, the demigod within him would rise again.

Rebirth of the Fallen Soul

As the last remnants of Mo Xiu's celestial form disintegrated into motes of light, the Realm of the Gods grew silent, the very air heavy with disbelief. The gods and demons who had stood against him were too stunned to speak. The battlefield, once alight with the fury of their collective might, now felt desolate.

Zhao Tian, the God of War, fell to one knee, his spear clattering to the ground. "He… he chose to vanish?"

Xian Yue's radiant form dimmed as she stared at the spot where Mo Xiu had stood. "No, he didn't vanish. He chose… rebirth."

"What do you mean?" demanded Balor, a demon general whose crimson eyes burned with suspicion.

Xian Yue's voice trembled. "The Rebirth of the Fallen Soul is an ancient technique, one forbidden even among the gods. It allows a soul to escape its bindings and start anew. But the cost…" She trailed off, her light flickering with uncertainty.

Zhao Tian's expression darkened. "It seals away all divine power, memory, and identity. He'll be born again, weaker than even a mortal child." He clenched his fists. "But why would he do this?"

"Because he doesn't want to destroy us," Xian Yue whispered, a tear sliding down her ethereal face. "He wants to save the mortals."

Balor sneered. "Then let him rot among the mortals. His rebirth is a curse. Without his power, he's no threat to us."

But as the gods and demons dispersed, each returning to their domains to rebuild, a shadow of unease lingered in their hearts. Deep down, they all feared one thing: that Mo Xiu would return one day—not as a destroyer, but as a savior.

Fifteen Million Years Later: The Mortal Realm

The Mo Clan

The Mo Clan was a shadow of its former glory. Once a dominant force in the mortal realm, its influence had waned over centuries of complacency and internal strife. Its grand estates had faded into mediocrity, its younger generation no longer feared or respected in the cultivation world.

Within a small, worn courtyard in the clan's estate, a fifteen-year-old boy sat beneath an ancient willow tree. His delicate features and calm demeanor made him appear unremarkable at first glance. This was Mo Xiu, the reborn demigod who now carried the reputation of the Mo Clan's greatest disgrace.

Around him, the courtyard was quiet, almost abandoned. The air smelled faintly of earth and rain, a reminder of the season's recent storms.

Mo Xiu's slender fingers traced a faint scar on the bark of the willow tree. He had made that mark ten years ago, a childish attempt to prove his resolve after being mocked for his inability to cultivate.

For fifteen years, Mo Xiu had lived as a mortal. His rebirth had left him with his memories intact but stripped of all his former power. Worse, the Rebirth of the Fallen Soul had sealed his demigod bloodline, rendering him incapable of cultivating.

He exhaled slowly, focusing on the flow of energy around him. Despite his sealed state, he could still sense the world's spiritual energy, a faint echo of his former connection to the heavens.

But no matter how he tried to absorb it, the energy slipped through him like water through a sieve.

"Still nothing," he murmured, opening his eyes.

A sharp voice broke the silence. "What's the point of pretending, Mo Xiu? Everyone knows you're hopeless."

Mo Xiu turned to see Mo Ling, his elder cousin, sauntering into the courtyard. Dressed in fine robes and flanked by two lackeys, Mo Ling's smirk was as condescending as ever.

"Practicing again?" Mo Ling taunted. "It's been fifteen years, cousin. Face it—you're a waste of space. Even a dog would have shown more potential by now."

Mo Xiu's golden eyes flicked toward Mo Ling, calm and unreadable. "And yet, you still find the time to bother me. Doesn't that make you worse than a dog?"

Mo Ling's smirk faltered. "You little—"

Before he could finish, one of his lackeys stepped forward. "Young Master Ling, why waste your breath on this disgrace? He'll be thrown out of the clan soon enough."

Mo Xiu stood slowly, brushing the dirt from his plain robes. "Perhaps. But we'll see who's laughing in the end."

Mo Ling's face twisted in anger, but before he could retaliate, an elder's voice called from the distance. "Mo Ling! The patriarch is looking for you."

With a final glare, Mo Ling turned and stalked away, leaving Mo Xiu alone once more.

A Quiet Resolve

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of amber and crimson, Mo Xiu remained in the courtyard. The gentle rustling of the willow tree above him was the only sound.

"Fifteen years," he murmured to himself. "Fifteen years of humiliation, of being called a waste."

His gaze shifted to the mountains in the distance, their peaks shrouded in mist. Somewhere out there, the gods and demons continued their games, oblivious to his existence.

"They think I'm gone," he said quietly, his golden eyes flickering with an ancient light. "Good. Let them think that. For now, I'll play the part of a mortal."

His hand brushed the bark of the willow tree again, and this time, he carved a small symbol into it with his finger—a mark of rebirth, of new beginnings.

"But one day," he whispered, "I'll reclaim what's mine. Not for revenge, but to protect what you sought to destroy."

As night fell over Qinghe, Mo Xiu closed his eyes, his mind filled with memories of battles and betrayals. Though his path was shrouded in uncertainty, his resolve remained unshaken.

For now, he would endure the scorn and ridicule of the mortal realm. He would rebuild, not only himself but the Mo Clan, restoring its lost glory. And when the time came, he would rise again—not as the destroyer of gods and demons, but as the protector of mortals.